


Amputare

by grasssea



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 21:09:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6769987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grasssea/pseuds/grasssea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I had Maze cut them off."</p><p>Lucifer and Maze, just arrived on earth, have something to get out of the way before they hit the town. Maze is not a surgeon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amputare

**Author's Note:**

> More Lucifer fic. I'm very interested in the fact that Maze cut off Lucifer's wings and I haven't seen anything yet about that, though if you know of anything please point me to it! In any case, I wanted something kind of down to earth, visceral, though it ended up a little boring.

He knelt in front of her, bare torso and bare feet. Maze could see all the bunching muscles of his back, hard flesh giving way to glowing feathers. She could see where his hair tickled the nape of his neck. Sitting behind him she could reach out and trace every already mapped inch of skin. She could plunge a knife into his heart.

“Do it, Maze!” he snapped, wings fluttering with tension around her. It felt like being in a maelstrom of light and feathers, wrapped in those wings. The holiness of it almost hurt.

“I need time to think.” she retorted, examining the lay of muscles she knew the purposes, if not the names, of. Torture gave one a very functional knowledge of human anatomy. “If I cut the wrong way it could royally fuck up your back, and with this knife you won’t heal easily.”

She could see tendons tightening in his neck and could imagine the set of his jaw.

“Just hurry it up.” he ordered. “We need to get this over with before the sun comes up and humans start coming out and getting fussy.”

It was barely midnight but they would make quite the scene, even without the sun. The night was cloudy enough to be starless and Lucifer glowed with every inch of his power, all of it bared so Maze could slice it off.

Speaking of slicing……

Maze grabbed the base of his right wing, firm but not hard enough to break any angelic bones. She pulled it out and pushed it away from her, to the side, until she could see where it joined his back. A fair amount of human-like flesh would have to go as well, to make the cleanest cut. A knife appeared in her hand and she touched it lightly to the joining, pressed it on its side like she was ready to flay someone bare. Lucifer shivered.

“Don’t move.” she said, because now she was the one giving the orders. “Remember, if I make a wrong cut, it could be serious.”

It was the sort of power another might have felt the need to savor, but Maze had held Lucifer’s life in her hands before.

She held the wing taut and placed the knife at the top of the joint, pressed flat and shimmied it down. There was a half an instant of the skin resisting before it split, like the red sea, and blood began to well up from the wound, like a sea of red. Maze kept cutting.

_“Everyone has a sad story, Mazie.” he would coo, and touch the mangled side of her face. If it was true that everyone had a tragic tale, Lucifer was definitely the loudest about his. He was a yearner by nature. He wanted. And if he couldn’t have what he wanted he could at least throw a tantrum about it._

_Maze was familiar with want as well, but in Hell she had been satiated. She’d had entertainment and respect, the scalding heat of hellfire on her skin keeping her on her toes. There was always a new game to play or a new torture to devise or a jaunt to earth if things got really boring. Home always seemed warmer after a visit to the cold world above. The years had passed quickly by Lucifer’s side._

_It had never been in doubt that she would accompany him when he left Hell, “Not for a visit Maze, not for a quick shag or a night of fun, for good. For as long as we_ want _.”_

_He’d made it sound delightful, an extended whirlwind in the most debauched city in the world, a chance to upset the powers above._

_Sitting on the beach with his blood on her hands, she had to admit it was something._

 

 

Lucifer managed to stay frozen until the knife was halfway down the base of the wing, but discipline had never been his strong suit. He spasmed.

“Stay still!” Maze said, trying to keep her blade steady. “Do you want to lose the ability to use your arm?”

It had only been a second or two, Maze was efficient, but blood already streamed down his back and her arms, sinking into the sand and sliding off the untouchable ivory purity of the feathers, Lucifer grunted and held his place as Maze finished severing the wing. It fell from her blood slick hand- she couldn’t have held it up anyways, ungainly as it was- and hit the sand.

The blood kept flowing and Lucifer snarled, “The feather, Maze!”

She picked up the downy feather, one of two plucked and set aside earlier next to the tarp, and pressed it to the weeping wound. Holy light filtered through her fingers, bright as a brand, and Maze felt the urge to shrink back, hide, as if it might bite her.

The light faded.

Lucifer stretched and his remaining wing almost batted Maze in the head. On his other side muscles flexed underneath….

“There’s a scar.” Maze told him.

Lucifer reached around to touch his back, wiping blood off of the raw red tissue that looked perhaps a few weeks healed.

“Well, Father always liked to leave me a reminder of what I had. These wings used to be one themselves.”

Despite the fact that Maze had just sawed a major appendage off of him, Lucifer looked practically giddy. He tried to stand and almost toppled over, dragged to the side by the weight of his sole wing. When he managed to get to his feet he looked down at Maze, still sitting on the blood saturated beach, and his wing, stretched out next to her.

The huge primary feathers, the sweep of the secondaries, they looked untouched by the dirt and bodily fluids surrounding them, infuriatingly pure after everything.

“How does it feel?” Maze asked with a smirk, exhilarated by the fact of what she had done, at least in theory. Cutting off an angel’s wing, who else could brag about that? The reality that it was her boss’s wing- and their best way home- was just an unfortunate technicality.

“Like freedom.” Lucifer sighed, eyes wide as an addict’s, as he stumbled to the ground. “The other one, Maze.”

Maze had her knife on her knuckle and pressing into her palm, but some part of her suggested that possibly restraint might be in order. Just this once.

“Are you sure, Lucifer?”

He had his back to her once more, but turned his head to look at her curiously.

“ _Come on_ , Maze, cut the wings off an angel, spite the heavens, run off and have a lot of sex and fun little blue pills? I thought you’d be happy as a clam!”

Maze shrugged, “I swore to protect you. Slicing off your wings, severing your power, I’m not an oathbreaker, Lucifer.”

“Not your sin, is it?” he smiled at her. “I’m glad you draw a line _somewhere_. Your loyalty is admirable, Maze. But I want this. So, wings; off.”

She readied her knife.

The second one went easier.

The midnight clouds were clearing up and the moon was peering out as the Morningstar’s last wing hit the ground. Maze applied first aid, angel style, and then there were just two scars and a lot of blood. A lot.

Lucifer kissed Maze, not quite gently but not with the usual zeal. His hands lingered at her waist for a moment before he gestured to the discarded wings, glowing gently on the ground.

“What are we doing with that rubbish?” he asked.

Maze pointed to the tarp. “Wrap them up so the mortals don’t see them. Find someplace to stay. Shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Right.” Lucifer was staring at them with something in between longing and hatred, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. He dropped to one knee to run a finger across the top of one. Then he began to drag it over to the tarp.

Maze took the other one and soon they had them wrapped up.

“On with the vacay then?” Lucifer asked, straightening up from his stoop.

“We both need to get cleaned up first.” Maze reminded him, glancing his torso. She tilted her head down and moved her gaze up his eyes, a come hither look perfected over the centuries. He grinned.

“Dip in the ocean?” she suggested.

Lucifer pouted “Come on Maze. If the humans haven’t built a beach here it’s probably because the water is poisoned or something.”

“Oh. No. How will we ever survive?”

“Yes, yes, point taken, Maze. Into the horrible poison water we go.” He held out a hand. “Promise to make it worth my while?”

“Only because you’re injured.” Maze told him, strolling toward the surf. Lucifer took a kick at the tarp on the way.

“I prefer _liberated_. Either way, I do think I deserve a little extra for that. Do you think we could recreate that time in good ole' Surrentum with the Romans?”

Maze had seen it before, injured people who went a little mad off the rush. And while Lucifer didn’t like pain he did have a thing for thrills and danger. There was nothing more dangerous than being wingless for the first time in millennia, cut off from home and the loyal-ish legions of darkness. Maze thought she ought to humor him. They had come to earth for a good time, after all. Besides, she'd enjoyed Sorrento too, even if it might be tricky to do with only two of them. 

By the time they finished they were both squeaky clean and soaking wet. The sand got in Maze’s shoes and on Lucifer’s recovered shirt, hiding his new wounds. Lucifer took the wrapped wings- Maze refused to carry them- and cradled them in his arms, like a human with a very large, bulky baby, like he hadn't just had them violently ripped off. Together they hiked up the beach.

Alone, injured, wet, it wasn’t exactly a traditional start to a vacation, but it had potential. They knew a surprising amount of people in the purported city of angels and Maze had fond memories of the nineties. For the first time since they had arrived on the beach, Maze started to think the entire disastrous, impulsive plan might turn out fun.

Besides, how long could the devil really stay interested?

 

 


End file.
